Who is you know who?

Anonymous, who are you? You, who are crying into your cornflakes?

I had a lovely two weeks at home in Vancouver, and saw my beautiful sister get married. Oh! She looked so beautiful in her dress made of Obaachan's old kimono fabric.

It was hard to come back this time. I've heard from other expatriate types that this is a sign, a sign that one is nearing the point when one is ready to go home. I can't deny that I haven't been thinking about it since I got back. It doesn't help that I've been buried in work all week and spent today, Saturday, in the office, laying out supplements until past 9 p.m., alone with Snuffy (who is being evicted after all, because he bit one of the star reporters -- today was his last day, and I was the only one there to say good-bye to him when Olman, the dour-faced accountant, took him away to his finca).

I did go roller-skating afterwards, though, with Tamara Neely and the rest of the Tico Times crew. Roller-skating was weird. Some of the Ticos were all hard core, skating backwards while dancing to a cumbia beat and shit. There was a fly dancing queen who looked like she could've been in Abba, if she were just a little more Swedish-looking. Tamara is leaving Monday -- her internship is over -- and everyone is sad. Great gal.

The new intern arrives on Tuesday. Poor guy. When I was going through resumes, I liked his because of his last name: Foxman. What a great reporter's name. "Foxman! Where's my goddamn copy?! GodDAMNit, Foxman, did you fact-check this son of a bitch or not?!" You see what I mean, I'm sure. Anyway, I made the mistake of voicing my observation to some people in the office, and now everyone is referring to him as Foxman!! before he's even arrived. No one even knows what his first name is. Great last name, though.